Dancing in the Darkness
by lillyinblack
Summary: Trowa visits the grave of his old friend and recalls the night of his deathoi, this thing is old.


Disclaimer: ((thought she was over with this business)) I do not own Gundam Wing or any of it's plotlines, art, or characters. Do not sue, thanks.  
  
Notes: Not much to tell about it. There is character death, slight OOCness since this is so darn OLD, and its just basically depressing. Short, sweet simple.  
  
Dancing in the Darkness  
Trowa watched the figure as it played the soft music, swaying elegantly back and forth rhythmically. The strains of the overture were rising and falling slowly while staying intense and exciting to the listener. It had taken himself that long to tell the truth to that musical man.  
He remembered the past, a dark one indeed. Bouncing from place to place without a soul other than Cathy's to feel him, to comfort his battered state of mind. He longed to be within the grace of a man he had met long ago. The Desert Noble, his prince. The sweetness of his manner was so close it was almost palpable and smelled lovelier than a rose.  
The night was clear, crisp, and seemingly delicate as Trowa made his way through the willows. Sakura blossoms fell past his eyes, which carried the mist of sadness. He caught one of the silken petals between his fingers and felt it for a moment, then dropping it in despair recalling the softness of his beloved's skin. He wanted to die in a way, but not there and not in the way he felt.  
Scaling a nearby willow the night sky unfolded, stars so bright that they burned the eyes. Wisps of smoky clouds shrouded the moon before passing along letting it shine it's beams to the ground. The wind rocked the branches slowly; they creaked like an old floorboard. Trowa drank in the beauty for a moment reminding him to remember the good, but all he seemed to feel was sorrow.  
Leaving the sanctity of the willows, he found himself wandering once more. Upon reaching a pond he stopped. The surface was like glass, yet reflective as a mirror. A cloud had returned to blackout the moon; all reflected in the water was shadows. He saw his outline, along with the bouquet of wild flowers at his side. As the clouds moved on once again, he saw a very different person, one that looked very old for his rightful age. The glimmer had left his eyes long ago, along with his confidence and trust in life. All that was left was a broken man with eyes as plain as day.  
Looking across the crystal pond, he saw what he had come looking for, and in despair he ran to the site. In seeming disbelief he ran fingers across the cold, gray granite stone. As the breeze blew yet again, he also felt the sakura blossoms hitting against him once more. He turned around and watched their melancholy flight for a moment, that mist in his eyes now falling to the ground, making them glimmer once more. As he wiped his tears away, his stern look came back unto his face; darkness taking over once more. He turned on his heel and placed the flowers at the base of that granite stone and prayed for a moment. Trowa ran his fingers over the inscription:  
"QUATRE R. WINNER  
Living forever in out hearts"  
At that moment he heard the music of that hunting overture again, and upon turning around, low and behold there stood the ghostly figure that had been haunting him for years.  
Quatre was in the theater, practicing his violin for the concert that night. Trowa was with him listening to every note played of the strings; the eloquent music filled the air. As he joined in with his flute, it was like old times and Quatre had never seemed so happy to see him. Their happiness was fleeting; it was all to end in the blink of an eye. That night, as Quatre played his solo, the room was in awe at the skill and beauty of his song. So much so that they were blind to an assassin waiting for his kill shot. As the solo and the song can to a close, Trowa found his spotting of the assasin too late; he fired his gun at the same moment that the dispicable man did. Trowa watched Quatre fall to the ground, his music silenced. As he rushed over to him, all Quatre could say was "I love you." He then died in Trowa's arms before he got his chance to speak.  
At that moment, seeing that white figure so close he took the opportunity and spilled his heart out. All of the emotions, the pain, suffering, all came out. He dropped to his kness crying, but as he felt a soft had upon his sholder, he stopped and looked up into the face of his beloved, seeing a smile that told him everything then disappearing.  
Trowa turned back around standing a few feet away from the gravesite. He made a few silent prayers, and upon opening his eyes, there was a new sparkle there for he knew how to end it all. He pulled out his trusty handgun which had ensured his safety for so long. Putting the barrel to his ear, the cold metal felt welcoming in a sinister way, and everything melted away with the metallic click of the trigger. He never even heard the shot as he fell to the ground. As he lied on the gravesite where he buried his best friend and secret love so many years ago, his crimson blood spatted the wild flowers and pooled beneath him in final satisfing bliss.  
Two figures now dance and play beautiful music beneath that lovely moon. 


End file.
